Sick Cycle Carousel
by Lithium Junkie
Summary: It was never supposed to happen like this. But then again, the only constant is inconsistency. Scott, Emma, and things burried. Drabble collection.


Originally written for Green Amber, but now submitted for mass consumption, may I present an Evo!Emott fic.

Mildly inspired by _Phonenix:Endsong _with a touch of _X3, _but overall just an excuse to torture Scott, play with Emma, and try my hand at drabble-writing for the first time. The prompts come from a livejournal community called unloveme, whose whole existence is centered around opposing fic where the words "I love you" are the climax. The idea intrigued, the prompts were interesting, and thus an excuse to do something other than homework for a while was found.

So here you have it – twenty-six connected drabbles that tell Scott and Emma's story (as I see it, anyhow) in the Evolution universe.

Enjoy.

_If shame had a face, I think it would kinda look like mine_

_If it had a home, would it be my eyes?_

_Would you believe me if I said that I'm tired of this?_

_Well here we go now, one more time._

'_Cause I tried to climb your steps_

_I tried to chase you down_

_I tried to see how low I could get down to the ground_

_I tried to earn my way_

_I tried to take this lie_

_And you better believe that I am trying to beat this._

-"Sick Cycle Carousel", by Lifehouse

**1. You were right about me.**

Jean had always been able to see through him.

_My favourite pane of glass_. She'd called him that once (among other things) in the privacy of their little hideaway, and he'd only smiled at the endearment because it came from her mouth.

Later, when he watches her die, when he watches her body burn in the fire of creation and destruction and everything, he notices tears that barely touch her face before sizzling away.

It's even later he realizes that even at the end, she saw through him and to what was yet to come. She saw, and she cried.

**2. I was wrong about you**

The words _she will rise again _are engraved on her tombstone like a promise.

She hasn't kept it yet, but Scott's still hopeful. He visits often and makes a point of bringing her flowers from the mansion's garden because he knows she'd like that.

He runs his fingers along the words, willing them to be true even though each passing day marks them more and more a lie.

"You planning on coming back to me soon?" He asks Jean, but she never answers. He asks aloud less and less, but the question remains, just like the flowers he keeps bringing.

**3. This cancels the hurt.**

Jean's been dead for three months, two weeks, a day and three hours when the new girl shows up at the mansion. Dressed in white and a pair of killer heels, she strides in like she owns the place and sets her sights on him.

"Careful with him, Emma." Rogue warns her later when she thinks Scott isn't listening. He is, but says nothing. "He's still hurting."

"Funny thing about hurt is that it tends goes away."

"Not always." Scott interrupts from his corner of the room, surprising both girls.

Emma looks at him like she's found a kindred soul.

**4. I need to want you.**

Emma learns about Jean not long after her arrival.

She almost regrets asking about the redhead in all the photos, but it's not enough for her to apologize. She simply listens to what she's told.

The girl lived and died here, was a psychic. There's something about possession by a primordial force of chaos called the Phoenix too.

It's the girl's relationship with the boy who was introduced to her as Scott, however, that manages to pique her interest.

For reasons perhaps not so strange – this Scott's nothing short a prize -- but certainly irrational, Emma finds herself intensely jealous.

**5. You can be like me.**

Scott considers offering her a place on the roster. It's a huge decision, but the ranks are dwindling, and there's a greater need for the X-Men than ever now. They need the bodies, and Emma, if anyone, can handle it.

"You sure about this?" Remy asks.

"We let you in, didn't we?"

Remy concedes with a dangerous smile.

"Touche."

"Do you want this?" Scott asks Emma once he's laid it all out. "You don't have to answer now--"

"I'm in." Her answer is quick, fierce. It almost frightens Scott, but he sees too much of himself there to judge.

**6. I want to need you.**

The nightmares are Scott's secret.

(His and Jean's secret, actually, but she's gone and she can't comfort him when he wakes up in a cold sweat at three in the morning anymore.)

A hot shower hides the evidence, leaving no-one save himself the wiser. Lately though, he wonders if Emma can tell. The way she peers at him over her morning cup of tea makes him uncomfortable. There's understanding in her face, like she's been where he is, like she knows what he dreams better than he does, and he wonders if maybe she'd get it if he told her.

**7. Prove it.**

She likes to toy with him, this Summers boy. Everyone else disapproves (of course – what else is new?), but that's all part of the fun.

The way she ties her hair, wears her skirts, the cut of her shirts; it's all part of a challenge. Does he see her? Does he want her?

_Stick your head out of your shell and rise to this, Scott, _she wants to scream. Instead, she speaks in the only languages she really knows: sarcasm and rising hemlines.

He understands the first, and speaks it fluently. It's the second he just doesn't seem to get.

**8. I'm cruel.**

The boiling point comes one bright summer day.

"She's dead."

Scott wants to hit her for lying. He can't bring himself to, because he knows she's telling the truth. His mouth is dry though, and he can't find any words.

As for her, spitting out that first dose of venom has leant her boldness.

"She's dead, it sucks. I know. But you're either blind or stupid."

He purses his lips and looks to the ground as she sighs impatiently.

"Tell me if I'm wasting my time here, please."

Honesty for honesty. He looks up.

"Are you willing to find out?"

**9. Always wondered what this'd be like.**

Are they a couple?

Everyone asks, nobody knows. Not even the two of them. Does the occasional expedition beyond the safety of the mansion together mean a relationship? Do the occasional, tentative moments stolen mean they're 'together'?

Speculation runs rampant as they spend more and more time talking, feeling each other out in a new context.

_He's got a thing for foreign films that no-one else in the mansion knows about. She was a tomboy until age sixteen, though until now has kept that to herself._

Are they a couple?

They don't know. But they're certainly giving it a shot.

**10. I'm broken.**

When rumours of Emma's past make their way to the mansion _(hellfire club terrorism enemy)_, Scott's the first to confront her. She simply juts her chin out in defiance before shooting a question right back.

"Would it matter if I had?"

He meets her eyes as best he can with ruby quartz in the way.

"Yes."

It takes a moment, but it's possible that something like shame settles on her face for a brief moment before hardening to cold ice.

"We all have our weaknesses."

It's not much of an admission, but it's more than she'd give anyone else.

**11. Thought I needed this.**

Time passes. Jean fades to memory, a wound healed leaving a scar to be remembered by. Scott and Emma are official.

Jean is ever present, the way memories and scars always are, but Scott is learning that maybe he doesn't need Jean the way he thought he did.

"You never forget your high-school sweetheart." Emma tells him, and her bitterness is thick. Scott doesn't know how to tell her that while she's right, she's got no reason to fear. While part of him will always be Jean's, there's a part of him in Emma's hands that Jean can never touch.

**12. I'm drunk.**

He's liquered up in fine style when she finds him, and his voice doesn't even sound phased when he responds to her annoyed _what the hell are you doing?_

"One year," He croaks out. "It's been one year since she's been gone."

Emma could point out that their anniversary is coming up too, and that this is the longest relationship she's ever had (outside of Shaw from Hellfire, but he doesn't count, not anymore – she's left that behind), but doesn't.

She just takes the bottle from his hands and pours herself a glass before taking a seat next to him.

**13. I want to hurt you.**

The depth of Emma's involvement with the Hellfire Club is finally revealed when they go up against their latest lineup.

"The White Queen?" He's hurt and angry all at once by what he sees as a betrayal. Emma barely musters the grace to look ashamed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"That's not me, Scott. Not anymore."

"How do I know?"

"You don't."

His face falls before she clarifies.

"I'm going say this once – The Club's in my past."

"I want to believe you, Ems."

The endearment speaks to his vulnerability. Emma takes his hand, her face softening.

"Then believe me."

**14. I'm awake and you're breathing.**

The X-Men have won the day again, but that means little in the face of smoke, blood and the smell of death.

The only one unaccounted for is Emma. Panic starts to set in.

"You aren't going to get rid of me that easily," She mumbles, stumbling in to his arms – the only steady thing in the near vicinity. He wraps her up in a hug as though he can protect her by sheer will alone, and begins to realize just how badly injured the two of them are.

They're alive though, and god help him, right now that's enough.

**15. This is my desperation in action**

Emma's uneasy today. For the past little while, she's been bothered by a nameless something that hangs over her like an anvil waiting to fall. It's apprehension, and she hates it.

"Do you love me?"

He wrinkles his nose at the question.

"Of course."

"Would you love me no matter what?"

"Emma, what's wrong?"

"Just answer me. I need to hear it right now, okay?"

He takes her in his arms and whispers all the right words, telling her how precious she is (and how crazy she is for doubting). She feels only marginally better.

The anvil is still there.

**16. I want to break you.**

Another year, another anniversary, another trip to the graveyard to see that weathered stone with Jean's name on it. Emma comes along, though she remains a measured distance back while Scott goes to pay his respects.

This time is different. Something is wrong. The earth is disturbed, and an empty coffin lays open in the ground.

"No," Scott whispers, flowers in his hand and heart in his throat. He'd finally managed to let Jean go. He's not supposed to hope like this. It's Scott and Emma now, not Scott and Jean.

_Honey, _a voice eerily like Jean's laughs, _I'm home._

**17. Wish I didn't love you.**

The drive home is silent. Emma turns up the radio; she can't abide silences.

Scott sits there in the passenger seat, stunned and unsure of what's going on. The sight of the empty coffin has shaken him to the point that his typical coping mechanisms – dry sarcasm, losing himself in his leadership role – are failing.

When they get home, he goes to the Danger Room and pushes himself to the point of collapse. It's supposed to send him straight off to unconsciousness without the awkwardness of dreams.

Despite his best intentions, Jean, or something like her, haunts his sleep anyway.

**18. I pity you.**

The Professor heads in to Cerebro and comes out twenty minutes later with a fallen face.

He speaks of the Phoenix, of the eternal, of Jean literally returning from the dead under the influence of something capable of swallowing galaxies.

Scott doesn't take it particularly well. Emma is there for him, her hand on his shoulder like a good girlfriend as he takes a seat so as to counteract the way the air's been forced out of his lungs.

She catches herself grinding her teeth though, hating how a dead woman she's never met can get to her like this.

**19. This isn't about you at all.**

Scott hasn't been sleeping well. He's been dreaming of Jean for the first time since her death, and it's almost worse than the nightmares he used to have.

The dreams bother Emma too. She can see them from the psychic plain, and it physically (not psychically, _physically_) hurts to see them play out. What hurts worse is that there is nothing she can do about them. They are the remnants of that connection Scott and Jean once shared. They are flimsy remains of a psychic bond picked up and exploited by a force that Emma can't hope to compete with.

**20. I hate you, you bitch.**

Late one night, Emma goes to the graveyard by herself. Her journey through the labyrinth of headstones is made silently until she arrives at her destination. The ground is still disturbed from Jean's untimely resurrection, and the inscription, once a promise, is now a prophecy fulfilled as well as cold mockery.

"Why couldn't you just stay dead?" She asks, and is answered by an echoing giggle in the back of her mind that she knows comes from the Phoenix.

There are still flowers there. As Emma leaves, she takes an unholy pleasure in crushing the half-wilted daisies beneath her boot.

**21. You'll do.**

"I can be her for you." Emma tells him.

It's true – she can project anything Scott can imagine. He can have Jean, she can have him, and they can both be happy in a little world of pretend.

She repeats herself.

"I can be her for you. Right here, right now."

Scott doesn't take her up on it. He just touches her cheek with those calloused fingers that make her squirm in all the right ways, sporting that soft smile she knows shouldn't move her like it does.

He doesn't say no though, and it's that open possibility that stings.

**22. I hate myself.**

It's not _normal _to have your dead girlfriend whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

It's not _normal _to have to think about what you'll do if it falls to you to deliver the killing blow to someone you once loved. Maybe even still love – who the hell knows anymore?

Scott has never been one for bouts of self-loathing, and he's certainly not about to start now. People are counting on him, and he's got to be strong.

There's a world of difference, however, between self-loathing and feeling hurt when your still-beating heart has been ripped right out of your chest.

**23. You remind me of me.**

Emma watches as Scott closes himself off to the world.

She hardly blames him, but there's a certain amount of offense that she takes at being pushed away when it's clear that this is when he needs her most.

She stays out though; respecting his private struggle even though now is when he ought to be leaning on those around him the most. She stays back, waiting patiently, willing to be there for him when he finally realizes there's no way he can shoulder this alone.

Because that's exactly what she'd want him to do if their positions were reversed.

**24. I want you to hate me.**

When he asks, she's shocked to the point of speechlessness, which is certainly something when you're dealing with a telepath.

"Do you honestly believe a dead ex-girlfriend is enough reason for me to skip out on you?"

He doesn't hang his head because there's no shame. This whole debacle is killing him, and he doesn't (wouldn't?) blame her if she were to up and leave because of it. He would if he could.

She offers the smallest of smiles before shifting so she's sitting a little closer to him.

"Clearly, Scott, you don't know me as well as you thought."

**25. You remind me of someone.**

_Oh, Scott, _says the thing that wears Jean like a badly-fitting sweater, _haven't you missed me?_

Emma stands at his side, and though it's nothing like what he used to have with Jean, he knows just what she's thinking. She's angry. In typical Emma style though, she fumes in silence.

"You're not Jean," he tells the thing.

_Maybe, _it concedes. _Maybe not. But are you willing to take that chance?_

It's a question that isn't as difficult to answer as he thought it would be.

Scott takes Emma's hand with his right, and with this left releases a crimson hell.

**26. I can be like you.**

Another battlefield leads to another funeral.

Jean's body is buried again, hopefully for the last time; though honestly, no-one's placing any bets. The thing called itself Phoenix, and the mythology behind that choice in name is far from encouraging.

"Thank you," Scott murmurs in Emma's ear as they leave the gravesite, wrapping an arm around her waist with one arm, and loosening his tie with the other.

"No," she replies, resting her head on his shoulder as they get back in to the limosine. "Thank you."

Neither needs to ask what for as two battered hearts make their way home.

-FIN-


End file.
